It's Not Even A Real Holiday!
by CretianStar
Summary: Complete collection of Sherlolly fluffy drabbles based on Halloween prompts. Smutty implications
1. Apple Bobbing

A/N: Well I made the challenge I should really post a go of it. So I have. There'll be two chapters every day. They aren't related to one another!

Happy Halloween.

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><p><strong>1. Apple<strong> **Bobbing**

"Sherlock." Molly tore through the flat with her arms filled with bags of apples.

"No." His voice echoed from his corner chair.

"You promised last year!" He raises his eyes from his book to see his pathologist pouting in the doorway.

"I recall that I would play apple bobbing 'in the future.'" Sherlock's dry voice stops when he hears her sigh.

"Fine." She turns back out of the lounge door and vanishes to the bedroom. At first Sherlock is wary of her quick acceptance but settles back into his book and says nothing. The door to their bedroom closes with an audible bang, it's followed by footsteps on the stairs and the front door banging as well. Sherlock stands to peer out of the window that overlooks Baker Street and spies the reddish brown hair of Molly on the kerb.

Molly hadn't argued with him and she had left. With what appeared to be a rather massive bag and she was hailing a cab. He racked his brain (not for very long) for what he had missed this week. But he was forced into his mind palace.

Striding along the corridors he arrived at the room he had dedicated to everything Molly-ish and was assaulted by an invitation.

Ah St Barts Children's Ward. The Halloween party with apple bobbing and Molly had invited him.

Crap. He was a bad boyfriend, but it was just a Halloween party.

For sick children.

Good Lord, Mycroft was right, Doctor Hooper was making him soft.

Sherlock came back into reality with a gasp and hurtled down the stairs, hailing the next taxi. The driver was unusually quiet, a godsend but cab drivers were usually such a chatty breed but Sherlock hurriedly paid him as they pulled up to the kerb of St Barts.

The automatic doors opened with a whoosh and Sherlock was halted on his Molly centred quest by a voice calling his name.

"John?" He turned at the noise to see a badly attired vampire stride towards him.

"Mary didn't think you'd come but I knew you wouldn't let Molly down." John led him up to the children's ward, exiting the lift on a tackily decorated corridor.

Mary dressed as a witch, complete with a long green wig was wheeling a little girl up and down the corridor before over to a cauldron to cast a spell. Nurses and parents, equally attired in cheap and cheerful costumes were playing games with the children some of whom were bed bound. There in the centre, dressed as a pumpkin was _his_ pathologist.

But Sherlock was stopped by a small voice at his side.

"Excuse me." A little bespectacled boy in a wheelchair broke his thoughts and Sherlock froze. Every helpful tip Molly had ever told him with children vanished at the sight of the boy. "Can you pass me the chocolate from the floor, I dropped it." He shrugged and Sherlock was knocked into kneeling down as the little boy pointed at the fun size mars bar. "Thank you. Why are you in pyjamas?" The little boy stared at the giant before him who was still a little unsure on how to deal with small individuals.

"It's my Halloween costume." Sherlock's automatic reply surprised himself.

"I normally wear pyjamas when I'm here." The little boy wheeled himself closer to the sweets table before turning back suddenly. "Have you come as me?!" Sherlock was taken aback at his shining eyes.

"Are you scary?" Sherlock knelt beside the boy who was undoubtedly getting a stiff neck from having to look up to him.

"Some children are scared of my chair but mum says my wheels make me cool." The boy thought for a minute as he munched on a handful of sweets. "But you don't have to be scary at Halloween! That's what Molly says." He beamed. "I've come as Sherlock Holmes and he's not scary." Sherlock's breath catches in his throat as he clocks the little boy's deerstalker and the big coat wrapped around his shoulders, clearly his dads but for once Sherlock holds his tongue. He also spies the scarf over the back of the chair and Sherlock feels his heart twinge.

"I think you look like him a lot." At his words the little boy beams again. "What's your name?"

"Ethan, I'm six years old." He smiles proudly and Sherlock can't help but grin at the infectious smile on his face. "Will you be apple bobbing later?" Ethan points towards the shallow buckets and Sherlock opens his mouth to decline. "I want to but I can't." He taps at his chair and Sherlock's mouth shuts quickly.

"I'll be your apple bobber." Sherlock offers before he can register what he's actually offered.

That's how Molly finds Sherlock after the apple bobbing; handing over a set of hot wheels cars to an ecstatic Ethan. Sherlock's curls are flattened to his head his silk pyjamas dripping but he can't help but smile at the state he's in.


	2. Costumes

A/N: Short one! It's always Molly trying to persuade Sherlock into a costume. Well I took a spin on it! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>2. Costumes<strong>

"No!" Molly was glaring at the outfit that Sherlock was holding aloft. He being utterly clueless in this sort of thing had no idea what was making her freak out.

"You love Alice in Wonderland?" Sherlock was bemused by her response. He was fairly sure, when Molly came up with this 'let's choose one another's costume' malarkey that he had managed to get it right. Apparently not.

"Sherlock that outfit is not going to fit!" Molly's death eye could possibly kill him. Molly had chosen a Terry Pratchett Discworld Assassin for him; the outfit consisted of everything black. A large black belstaff, a black shirt and waistcoat with the emblem of the Assassins guild that Molly had hand stitched onto each piece of fabric and then a pair of black trousers.

She'd been nice to him.

She was still glaring at the outfit that might just cover her butt, _if_ she pulled on it hard enough.

"It comes with suspenders and stockings, even underwear in the right colour." He continues to explain blithely. "The saleswoman was very helpful, suggesting this outfit and the accessories when I gave her your measurements. The other option as a nurse and I thought as a doctor you wouldn't appreciate that!" He smiles at her.

"Saleswoman." Molly's tone wipes away the smile. Sherlock tries to calculate how pissed off she was with him.

Very. She's dumped the bag containing his costume and stalked past him, he hears the front door slam a few moments later. He eyes the offending item and is still unable to work out why Molly had caused such a scene.

It was a nice outfit; silk and well made. The woman behind the counter at Agent Provocateur had said it would suit the description Sherlock provided of Molly. He also of course wouldn't admit that he's ever ready mind had provided the images of Molly dressed as zombie Alice. The blue silk was artfully torn, it would still cover the underwear that Sherlock had purchased. His body gave somewhat of a primal urge and Sherlock tamped it down with rational reasoning.

His mind switched to puzzling over Molly's mysterious behaviour. Finally – about 30 seconds later – Sherlock had eliminated every option and logically pinned it to Molly's lack of self-esteem. He then tried to determine how to remedy this and the solution entered his mind immediately. A costume had had banned the past few years.

Mr Darcy.

*S.H*

"Let's just get our own costumes." Molly's voice was clipped and Sherlock knew she hadn't forgiven him. "Now I'm going to get takeaway." She dusted her hands on her skirt and hauled herself upright. She didn't even ask him if he wanted Chinese or Indian but she was out of the door.

However when Molly came back, bundled in her scarf ladened with plastic bags she was not expecting the sight before her.

Sherlock was dripping on the carpet.

His white shirt gapped open revealing that pale expanse of chest, even if the fabric was see through. His black trousers clung to his legs.

"I was thinking I could wear this for Halloween?" Sherlock's tone told her he really was trying to make up for his blunder earlier. He was shifting on the spot slightly; the flat was colder than he had originally thought.

"That outfit." Molly whispered, undoing her coat. "Better be reserved solely for my eyes." She launched herself at him, dropping her scarf and bags, kissing him hard. "You're freezing!" She mumbled against his lips.

"The flat was not as warm as I thought." He said against her, thankful for the warmth she brought. "Bed?" He felt her nod and swept her up. "My lady allow me to escort you."

"I like this costume Sherlock."


	3. Pumpkins!

A/N: MY INTERNET DID NOT WORK LAST NIGHT! So have four chapters today :)

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><p><strong>3. Carving Pumpkins<strong>

Sherlock was staring at the orange globe before him with distaste.

He did not like pumpkins. A little known fact that they were classified as a berry rather than a fruit or vegetable did not endear Sherlock to pumpkins. He didn't like the smell, the taste, or the insides. All he could remember was Hyacinth, his cousin smearing his head with pumpkin guts one Halloween and the thought still makes him gag a little.

Sadly his pathologist adored them and the holiday they were so closely associated with them and here he was in her kitchen facing four of the monsters.

"Do I have to gut them?" He frowns and catches Molly's smile.

"No Sherlock, you're free on that, I did them last night." He hears the jubilance in her tone and his frown deepens despite the relief in his heart.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know your disgust for pumpkins." Molly smiles as she pulls knives out of her drawer. "You told me when you were very drunk in third year just how much you hated pumpkins. I don't imagine you remember that Halloween party." Molly's smile has morphed into a smirk and Sherlock glowers at her. He hates that she brings up on the blip in his usually perfect memory, damn university Sherlock. But it had introduced him to the little minx in front of him. The little minx who had other uses for that mouth of hers.

"Anyway." Sherlock said briskly, ignoring his semi and the smirk on her face.

"Yeah I bought four pumpkins, went a little Halloween mad, as always and decided you should carve one this year." She handed him a knife and set the largest pumpkin in front of him. Without another word she picked up her pencil and sketched onto her pumpkin. She studiously ignored Sherlock was glaring at his pumpkin, knife in hand as she began to cut her first design.

Twenty minutes later and Molly had finished two pumpkins while Sherlock had finally begun to cut his whopper of a pumpkin.

Another half an hour and Molly had finished with her three pumpkins as well as having tidied up her kitchen when she spared a glance for her grumpy detective. He was staring critically at his design then nicking at small parts of the pumpkin, eventually when it became clear to her that he was going to be a perfectionist and Molly picked up her wine and left it to him.

"Done!" His triumphant voice jolted her from her reverie, having switched off from Eastenders which was playing in the background.

"Sherlock it's taken you an hour!" Her eyes flitted to the clock and back to her beaming detective. He'd taken off his coat and even rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to finish his pumpkin. "Can I see it?" She picked up her empty wine glass and joined Sherlock in the kitchen.

"Let me see yours first?" He stood in front of his finished creation, blocking miniscule Molly from seeing it. Huffing out a breath she acquiesced to his words and swivelled her long finished trio of pumpkins. The largest of hers had a haunted house intricately carved out, the second had a ghost and the third was a grinning skull.

"Happy?" She tapped her fingers against the top of the ghost and raised one eyebrow.

"They're… very you." He examined each of the designs, each is cheerful and very seasonal. Much like those awful Christmas jumpers you bring out December 1st." He commented idly. He was snapped back when her hand connected with his arm.

"Hush you." Her eyes narrowed. "Let's see yours then." Sherlock stepped aside and Molly's jaw dropped.

"What do you think?" His smug tone told her everything she needed to know.

"It's a dragon." She gaped, stepping closer to the marvel in front of her.

"It's Smaug, from that film you bloody love." Sherlock explained, putting the utensils in the sink of long cold bubbly water. "Well I thought if you're going to force me to do a pumpkin I might as well make it something that reminds me of you." Sherlock shrugged watching Molly's reactions closely, he didn't always get these things right.

"Why does it remind me of you?" She whispered, tearing her faze from the intricate curled dragon to the imposing man next to it.

"You like it when I imitate Smaug's voice." Sherlock watched as Molly bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.

"That's very true." The blush stole across her cheeks and Sherlock decided they had spent enough time doing something Molly-ish, he wanted to do something Sherlock-ish.

"Maybe I should steal you away to my cave." His gravelly voice made Molly's face slacken and Sherlock grinned wickedly at her.

"Race you." She winked and flitted out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"Wench!" He roared in the voice, an accomplishment in itself, "You will not escape me that easily!" He gave chase.

Who knew pumpkins had their uses.


	4. Halloween Party!

A/N: Another chapter! Of course well here we go.

MycroftxAnthea fluff and JohnxMary fluff.

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><p>4. Halloween Party<p>

"No." Sherlock huffed as he stared at the costumes Molly had just ordered. He stood behind her armchair, John had taken his with him, and glared at the screen as if it was its fault not the mousey woman utilising it.

"Sherlock." She wheedled and he glared.

"Why those." He leant over her as she craned her neck back to look at him. One hand stretched up to his hair and she tugged him closer.

"Because you can bite me any day." She kissed him quickly, which deepened until Sherlock grabbed the laptop and moved it away while Molly was still kissing him. As soon as the pressure left her lap she turned, kneeling on the chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I find the idea of you as a vampire incredibly hot." She whispered against his lips, before trailing kisses to the spot beneath his ear. She bites his neck and listens to the whine that escapes his throat.

"Molly, this method is not fair." He gasps out as her hands slide down his body, buttons undone quickly and her short nails scratch across his chest.

"Plus, I know you love the idea of me in a corset since you bought me that cursed Alice costume last year with the slashed corset." She purred into his ear and felt his hips twitch into the back of the armchair in response. Sherlock didn't formulate an argument at that point, he just picked her up, enjoying the delighted squeal she gave before the squeals became screams of passion as he took her over his desk.

It put the costumes entirely out of his mind until they arrived. He came back from Scotland Yard to see two cardboard boxes.

One was already open, a black and red ruffle was all that remained. Sherlock felt his heart sink. The damn costumes, he was meant to cancel her order but his memories of that day were somewhat distracted by the delightful noises Molly made when he…

Damn distracted again. Oh and distracted once more.

Molly had stepped from the bedroom, swamped in black and red silk. The black outer silk dress was held back with white lace, revealing more black silk, patterned with a Victorian red design. The corset was nipped in at her waist, a red velvet panel was covered with small black bows that looked suspiciously like bats. The pouffed shoulders dropped to wide white lace sleeves, there was a brocade trim along the seams of the bodice and Sherlock felt his mouth water.

"Afternoon, you're back early. What do you think?" Molly turned in the dress, the silk rustling as she spun and Sherlock was forced to register his brain to mouth.

"I suppose it's okay." He was forced to admit but he made sure he sounded reluctant.

"Well try yours on, I'm sure those trousers can fit your hard on in them." She grinned and Sherlock glared at her but stomped off with the box under his arm. Twenty minutes later, Molly had stripped off her costume and was now sitting idly in the lounge waiting for Sherlock to reappear.

Another fifteen minutes and she was bored of waiting.

"Sherlock!" She stalked into the bedroom to see him glaring at his reflection.

"I do not like this costume." He growls and catches Molly eye. She's looking at him hungrily. "You have a vampire fetish now?" He spins to stare at her and a slow smile curves on her face, a smile that Sherlock very rarely sees; it's her seduction face.

"Maybe." She nods and Sherlock's lazy smile mirrors Molly's.

The costume ends up on the floor.

On the night of Mycroft Holmes' Halloween Party, thrown in actuality by Anthea, his gorgeous girlfriend, Molly and Sherlock turned up suitably matching. Sherlock straightens the velvet cape again and tugs irritably at the white silk and lace cravat that the godawful costume came with.

"If you straighten that top hat one more time Sherlock Holmes I will ram it down to your nose." Molly didn't quite realise her own collar would be so uncomfortable but she bore it in the name of Halloween.

"It's not even a real holiday." He all but growled as he tugged at the velvet covered stiff collar. "These boots are killing me." He whined, pulling at the soft leather boots that Molly knew he actually liked.

"Sherlock. One more sodding word and I will refuse to sleep with you for a week." She hissed out of the corner of her mouth and Sherlock shut up sharpish. "I know you want to test out that cane." She whispers and takes a glass of the punch that Mycroft has had running through an ice sculpture. She can taste the port and feels her lips pucker.

"Mycroft loves port, it gets him through Halloween and Christmas." Sherlock has joined her.

"Sherlock! Molly!" They hear Mary Watson call across the room which she runs across ignoring the dignitaries and nobles who stared.

"Wow Harlequin and Joker!" Molly beamed at Mary's black and red onesie and hat. John's hair had been dyed green and his purple suit hugged his body almost as tightly as Mary did to him.

"I love yours! Bride of Dracula looks hot!" Mary made her twirl. "Have you seen Mycroft and Anthea? She looks amazing, Mycroft looks grumpier than Sherlock does." She winked at the detective who scowled, despite having his interest piqued by his brother's costume.

His curiosity was satiated as the host and hostess appeared. Sherlock's laugh echoed across the room and Mycroft's scowl deepened.

"Beauty and the Beast. Well Anthea you a certainly a beauty." Sherlock swept off his hat and bowed to the pair.

"Be quiet Sherlock." Mycroft drawled.

"Not a chance, this is something I will remember." Sherlock snickered and Mycroft raised an eyebrow in distaste.

"Well Dracula is certainly a novelty for me." He sneered and drew back when Anthea pinched his arm.

"Don't be beastly Mycroft." She raised one eyebrow and a moment passed between the pair.

"I'm coming to next year's party Molly." Sherlock swept Molly into his arms. "Anything to see that minx dress my brother up in outfits."

John and Mary had tactfully disappeared as the two Holmes brothers did not tear their eyes away from their lady loves.

"My sweet bride, I think we should make use of the summer house." Sherlock whispered in her ear and tugged her out of the door.


	5. Scary Movie Marathon

A/N: Short one, because in all honesty I have no idea about scary movies. I don't watch them.

They scare me.

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><p><strong>5. Scary Movie Marathon.<strong>

"Molly you don't like Carrie." Sherlock had come home, having ghosted up the stairs as always and making her scream.

"I know but it is Halloween, a Hooper tradition." He hung his coat up and unwound his scarf from his neck as he cowered behind her pillow.

"Your brother dared you to do it when you were eleven and that's how it became a tradition." Sherlock huffed flopping beside her, hiding a smile when she cuddled into him.

"How it started is irrelevant." Molly held the remote while he kicked his shoes off.

"How long left?" His arm snaked along the sofa behind her head.

"Twenty minutes and then it's Blair Witch Project." Molly pressed play.

"You hid behind the sofa for that last year." Sherlock fell silent as the film continued.

They were on Nightmare on Elm Street before Molly called it quits. She had every light turned on as she headed to bed and she waited until he was in bed before her side light went off.

"Molly." Sherlock's voice rumbled in the darkness. "Get to sleep sweetheart." He allowed her to wrap herself around him like an ivy trail, her nose buried into his neck.

"When I've made something happy up in my head I will." She took a deep breath of Sherlock's smell and closed her eyes.

"Okay darling." His chest rumbled beneath her ear and he stroked her hair absently. "You'd think after watching the same films every year you'd know what was coming."

"You know my imagination Sherlock, it scares me. The gore doesn't bother me which is why I don't find SAW scary, these films are apprehension and that's scarier." Molly mumbled into his collarbone.

"I know all of that but you still know what's coming." Sherlock twirls a strand of her hair around his finger.

"Guess it's just me Sherlock." Molly snuggles in closer.

"Let's have a sex marathon instead of a scary movie marathon next year." Sherlock murmured as he felt sleep claiming him.

"We can do that tomorrow." Molly mumbled.


	6. Decorating the House

A/N: Last one for today. Finished on my tablet so ignore any spelling mistakes! Much love, some naughty implications at the end!

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><p><strong>6. Decorating the house<strong>

"What on earth?!" Sherlock spluttered, "Can't a man walk into his own flat now withou...Molly?! What is this?!" His flat had vanished, the crime scene tape across the door was garish and thankfully nothing to do with Lestrade who was snickering behind him.

"Doctor Hooper loves Halloween then?" Lestrade snorted as the pair ducked the tape into the new graveyard.

Polystyrene tombs littered the floor, there was a smoke machine in one corner, fake cobwebs dangled from every possible corner and crevice.

Sherlock was sure about two things; Molly would have cleaned out his experiments and he was not cleaning any of this up.

"Greg, you're early!" A cheerful voice heralded Molly's arrival and Sherlock coughed to hide his appreciation of Molly's outfit. The pirate girl outfit cut off mid thigh, she had a sword buckled to a hip and a bandana covering her hair. The front piece had a loose leather corset design which Sherlock was itching to rip off her and oh god those leather thigh highs could be the death of him.

"I actually came to bring Sherlock back. He's hanging around for a case." Greg explained having clocked the look on the consulting detectives face as one of awe and passion.

"He was supposed to be buying the wine." Molly frowned. Ahh busted, Sherlock's consciousness was pulled from ravaging pirate Hooper to seeing the glare upon her face.

"Got distracted." He breezily explained but Molly's wickedly dark smile made him worry.

"Invite said half seven? I'll be around then." Lestrade let himself out as Molly stood there hands on hips.

Sherlock soon found out his punishment. Molly raised the hem of her dress to reveal her stockings.

"I want you to decorate the kitchen as a biohazard site. For once it won't be true." Molly's fingers played with the seam of her stockings and Sherlock's mouth watered but he stayed still.

"If I don't?" He strove for a cool disposition.

"You don't get to pull these off with your teeth." She whispered and Sherlock groaned but saw the determination in her eyes. He had never moved so fast!

Soon the kitchen was decked with more spray on cobweb, a gas mask, microscopes and dry ice.

Before he could make a step towards Molly, the Watsons arrived with the wine and plastic bats.

"Your costume is in the bedroom Sherlock." Molly said distractedly as Mary pulled out spiderweb curtains and then entailed superman John to hang them.

When Nurse Donovan appeared as Vampire Lestrade's guest it took Molly's trump card for Sherlock to behave.

"No knickers Sherlock." She whispered as she passed, reaching the detectives before Sherlock could. He froze at the thought and bided his time in his stupid matching pirate costume.

Twenty minutes later Molly was nibbling on a chocolate roll when his body wrapped around her from behind, he ignored Grandma Addams aka Mrs Hudson's smirk and leant down to Molly's ear.

"Captain Holmes wants to board the ship and ravage your booty." His voice sent shivers through her spine but his words made her laugh.

"Oh captain." She giggled at a bemused Sherlock. "This ship has a few more defence mechanisms. I want to make you beg." Her voice is low and thankfully most of their attendees have left, except John and Mary who are in the process and Mrs Hudson who's helping them.

"Please Molly." His voice makes her wet but they pull apart to see the last three off. Well Molly does, Sherlock's petulant and waits until he hears the door lock behind them.

"I'll beg in the bedroom." He offers as an explanation as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her off. "Right now I want to offer my loyalty to Captain Hooper and if that means making her scream my name using only my mouth, well so be it!" He hears her laugh and her hand grabs his arse as he goes.

"Best start then." She retorts and the bedroom door slams behind him.


	7. Trick or Treat

A/N: So this was supposed to be up THURSDAY but I had no internet. I've done a lot of reading since Thursday because it's only just been fixed. Apologies my lovelies.

So there'll be four up today :)

Well three after this!

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><p><strong>7) Trick or Treating<strong>

Baby Grace Watson was no longer a baby but more a seven year old Grace Watson. However she was still one of the grudging favourites that had wormed her way into Sherlock's affection.

Which is why he was stood at the bottom of a path as his witchy god-daughter dragged her zombie brother back to him. Grace and five year old Michael Watson were jumping up and down at the sweets overflowing from their bags beaming up at Uncle Sherlock.

"One more house." Grace had already spied the look on Sherlock's face and knew he was bored.

"You said that five houses ago." Sherlock raised one eyebrow and was matched by the little girl. She definitely had her mother's genes.

"Uncle Sherlock, you just want to get back to Auntie Molly." Michael hung off the tall man's elbow, grinning at the bored expression. "One more house and then we show mummy what we got." He raised his arms and Sherlock scooped him up without another complaint.

"Are you holding my hand or are you coming up?" Sherlock looked down to Grace who held out her hand and took Sherlock's, dragging the detective towards the final house in the row. It was Sherlock who held out Michael who grinned at the lady holding the bowl of sweets before taking one and putting it in his pumpkin bag. It was Sherlock who carried a heavier Grace and Michael, complete with sweet bags back the mile and half to Baker Street.

He had been naïve when Mary had innocently suggested that he and Molly looked after the kids this weekend. The date had completely skipped his mind until Grace tore into his lounge after school one day babbling about her Halloween outfit.

By the time he reached the front door, he was sweating and panting, regretting the evening completely. He almost collapsed on the stairs up to his flat as the two children knocked neatly on Mrs Hudson's door before talking over one another about their own sweets. Mrs Hudson winked at the cherry red Sherlock and quelled the noise quickly.

"Now Gracie, Mike." She clucked. "Let Uncle Sherlock go upstairs and relax with Auntie Molly for a little bit and then you'll go up a little later." She smiled as the children raced over to the collapsed form of the detective who was winded further as they hurled their little bodies at him in a hug before rushing back into Mrs Hudson's flat. "Off you pop Sherlock, Molly's been bored." Mrs Hudson waved the man up the stairs and with a new burst of energy he dashed up the stairs.

"You're home!" A warm voice welcomed him from the lounge and Sherlock smiled briefly before hanging up his coat.

"You owe me Hooper. Thirty houses I have just traipsed too before carrying both children back. Grace Watson is a danger to society, that butter wouldn't melt routine is dangerous…"

"And it's one that works on you every time." Molly's voice was full of laughter as she remained on the sofa. "It wasn't too bad was it Sherlock?" She smiled fondly, looking up at her tall detective.

"You should have come." He grumped, flopping carefully next to her.

"I'm due in three weeks and you want me walking around London with a bunch of rampaging kids." Molly raised her eyebrows but her mock disapproval faded as he rested his hands on her stomach. "I'm bored of being pregnant Sherlock." She rested her head against the back of the sofa and groaned.

"I'm bored of you being pregnant too." Sherlock kissed the bared skin. "I want little Lucius here."

"We are not naming our child Lucius." Molly blindly reached out to hit him, missing as he ducked. "Besides it's a girl."

"You don't know that."

"You swore you didn't make the sonographer tell you so we're both clueless." She looked up to narrow her eyes up at him and he smiled innocently back.

"I swear. Besides you know I couldn't keep that a secret." Sherlock held his hands up in surrender before kissing Molly's temple. "The monsters are downstairs, Mrs Hudson said she would look after them for an hour but…" His words were cut off by a wail and small footsteps on the stairs.

"What's wrong Mike?" Molly heaved herself up, stomach in the way as the little boy tore up the stairs and launched himself onto Sherlock.

"Grace says monsters are in my bedroom." He sobbed as Molly pulled him carefully towards her.

"GRACE!" Sherlock bellowed and hesitant steps followed.

"I didn't mean to make him cry." The wide eyes were not fooling either adult.

"Just because Grace Emma Watson, you are dressed as a witch doesn't mean you have to behave like one." Molly scolded, eyes trained on the little girl's face who seeing Sherlock's angry face was staring hard at the floor.

"Apologise to him Grace and prove to him there are no monsters." Sherlock set Michael on his feet and Grace took her brother's hand.

"Sorry Mike, I didn't mean to scare you." She mumbled. But she looked over the little boy's head dead at Sherlock. "I don't like the dark."

Sherlock sighed before pulling himself upright, he took both children's hands, taking them to the bedroom they shared to show there really weren't any monsters.

It wasn't until much later that Sherlock had pretty much rolled Molly into bed that she let out a soft laugh.

"You've got at least ten years of trick and treating left." She grinned in the darkness, rewarded with a resounding groan from Sherlock.


	8. Haunted House

A/N: Uni Sherlolly! Well they had to start somewhere right!

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><p><strong>8) Haunted House<strong>

Staring up at the house above them Sherlock felt Molly tremble beside him.

"Scared Hooper?" He sneered and Molly glared back at him.

"You've taken me to some derelict property on your estate and you're asking if I'm scared. I've heard stories about you Holmes, they say you're a weird one." She hissed back and was pissed to see him smirk.

"You've got a torch." He gestured at the implement in her hands and she clutched it a little tighter.

"We are not splitting up." She spat, almost as if she could see the words cross his mind. Which he grudgingly would admit, that was the plan.

"Look, the house has been derelict since before I was born, it's not a big deal." Sherlock grinned. "It's only the old gatekeepers place." He gestured loosely at the building.

"Sherlock, where I come from we don't have gatekeepers, let alone a derelict dwelling of one." Molly grumped and jumped when the wind rushed through the trees blowing their hair. "You've brought me here on Halloween. You know for a roommate you're a dick." She folded her arms, keeping her coat closer to herself.

"Yeah that's not new." He sighed. "Shall we?" He nodded towards the door which seemed sturdy enough. Molly nodded after a second's hesitation. Sherlock was a prat but he wasn't deliberately cruel to her; she was one of his only friends at university and he wouldn't jeopardise that. Right?

The house itself looked a little forlorn, but the crescent moon and the torches made it scary. And Molly's imagination. The stone face of it looked ordinary enough, the windows were boarded up but the door remained the old heavy wood of the original cottage. Thank god it was only one floor.

"There's a basement we can explore?" Sherlock called from the porch, his torch focusing on finding the right key from the ring he'd nicked from his father's study.

"Sod off Sherlock." Molly stamped her feet against the cold. Finally the door creaked open. _Creaked_. Molly thought they only did that in movies, but nope, real creaking door and she followed Sherlock into the dark hallway. "It's been abandoned since…?"

"I think the turn of the century." Sherlock hummed as his beam of light flicked through the doorways available to him. Something creaked inside the house and the pair of them froze.

"I thought said since you were born." Molly hissed, reaching out for his arm. When she gripped him there was no complaint or jibe from Sherlock who was swinging his torch at the wooden ceiling above them.

"Since before I was born." He whispered as the creaking moved.

"Sherlock can we leave?" Molly whisper shouted and her fingers were locked tightly with his, she was tempted to start pulling on his arm but Sherlock held firm.

"There are no such things as ghosts, it's probably an animal." He dismissed the notion of a spectre charging at them.

"I don't want to find that out Sherlock." Molly was pulling on his arm and despaired when he resisted.

"Let me just follow the noise." He demanded, using his strength to pull mousey Molly with him. The Edwardian décor of the house was not lost on Molly who, despite everything, was awed when she saw the claw foot sink in the kitchen and marvelled at the peeling wallpaper, definitely original.

"Sherlock." She was brought back to reality when the creaking turned to a thud. The pair stopped again and Sherlock swallowed hard.

"It's not possible for it to be a ghost Molly." But it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself not her.

"Sherlock I'm leaving." Molly had gone deathly white and was pulling herself free of his paralysed grasp. "I've watched enough horror films to know the way this ends." She said hoarsely and was now escaping out of the front door, Sherlock hot on her heels as there was another bang from the attic. The pair stopped at the edge of the trees and looked back at the house.

"There's…." Sherlock paused, stopping Molly from running as he held her hand once more.

"A light in the attic window, yes there is now before I see a shadow in front of it I am going back to my nice bed in your place." Molly turned and fled down the path.

"That's not possible…" Sherlock's brow furrowed but said nothing more as he ran too at the sight of the silhouette in the very top window.


	9. Zombie Survival

A/N: In all fairness this one's short because I HATE zombies. Like I really hate them, just googling this event for me details has made me feel a little ill. So this is short and quirky.

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><p><strong>9) Zombie Running<strong>

"What on earth have you signed me up to." Molly hissed as she looked at the cluster of abandoned warehouses. She'd been given a gun with paint pellets in it and a belt with three pale blue ribbons velcroed onto it. "Oh god I know what this is." She hissed as Sherlock grinned at her.

If there was one thing he loved more than pirates when he'd been a child, it had been zombies. He'd known pirates were a scientific definite, zombies hadn't been and he had no inclination to do a Frankenstein – his parents introducing him to that book quite early on. But his obsession with zombies hadn't quite abated.

Mycroft had bullied her mercilessly because young Sherlock had been ready for a zombie apocalypse and well the same training came in handy when chasing criminals across London.

Which is why he had signed his dearly beloved up for this zombie survival course.

"I hate you." She glared at him and Sherlock just beamed back at her. "You owe me." She watched as their "leader" clicked his gun and checked his ammunition. Sherlock's eagerness to follow suit made her feel ill. Unlike her darling detective, Molly hated zombies. Hated them. Which is something Sherlock had never understood. Fortunately she had been rational enough to realise that the corpses she worked on every day did not reanimate and if they did she had enough tools at her disposal to kill them but she did not want to be chased by actors parading as her childhood nightmare. However they had no choice. The bus stopped and they hustled into the first warehouse.

The next hour passed in a blur of screaming, paint pellets and Sherlock's gleeful laughter. Finally when they collapsed back into her car Molly had the energy to punch him in arm.

"You're a dick." She spat, pulling her hair away from her eyes. "You owe me until next Halloween. If I don't get the biggest Christmas present you can spent it elsewhere." She put her hands on the wheel of her car in the hopes of calming herself down. "You know I do not like zombies Sherlock." She started the engine and pulled out without another word, Sherlock only just managing to buckle himself in.

Sherlock knew he'd taken the wrong person when every time he tried to speak, at first to celebrate and then to apologise Molly turned the music up.

The car ride home was very quiet.

Mary and John were waiting at Sherlock's parents place when they pulled up the driveway and were slightly bemused when Molly pulled herself from the car without a word to Sherlock, walking through the front door and ignoring them.

"I didn't take John in case it was too similar to the war." Sherlock called from the passenger door of the car.

"You should have taken Mary Sherlock." Molly yelled back before slamming the front door as he slumped against the car.

"Sherlock? What did you do?" John strode towards his best friend.

"When she said she didn't like zombies I didn't think…"

"That she meant it?" John scoffed. "When has Molly ever hidden her emotions? She isn't you Sherlock! Your big romantic day with her was the zombie event you wanted to go to?" John shook his head and even Mary looked at him like a hopeless case.

"Get on your knees and beg forgiveness Sherlock. She was terrified of them as a child. It's only working at the morgue that curbed it. She won't work for a week at least now." Mary shook her head as Sherlock groaned.

"Go! Be thankful your parents are out and we're going out for dinner." John explained, his patience long worn thin by his moronic best friend.

"She'll forgive him." Mary watched as Sherlock ran in after his fiancée before she slid into the driver seat of her own car.


	10. Encounter With a Ghost

A/N: Finite! Late I know but hey what you gonna do about a bad internet connection - can't call Ghostbusters for that and Sherlock certainly hasn't called ghostbusters for this last chapter.

Enjoy my lovelies. See you soon!

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><p><strong>10) Meeting a Spirit.<strong>

"That's a ghost Sherlock." Molly clutches his arm and Sherlock's forced to evaluate the _thing_ in front of him. It's certainly translucent and everything points to it being a real ghost.

Only they don't exist.

In celebration of their second wedding anniversary Sherlock had taken Molly back to the gatekeepers place on the edge of his estate. Mycroft's estate. The same place they had gone to when they were 21 before they graduated, before Sherlock almost killed himself with drugs and when Molly had to deal with her unrequited love for her university flat mate. Now it was very much returned but he still behaved badly from time to time.

This was one of them.

He'd said a picnic in the woods watching the sunset. Only she realised how duped she'd been when Sherlock brought her here.

"Mycroft's left it since we came here last." Sherlock whispered as he stared at the person in front of him. "It's got to be a person." Sherlock steps forward but Molly holds on his arm.

"Sherlock, this person, is see-through." She stares up at him with wide eyes and Sherlock's forced to say he can see through to the wall behind the creature in front of him.

"Are you two just going to stare at me?" The ghost snapped, turning to them. "I am also a woman if you haven't noticed." She gestured to the flowing skirts that Sherlock's brain was still arguing against.

"I am calm. I am calm." Sherlock chanted as he stared wide eyed at the female form before them.

"Sherlock." Molly tapped him on the shoulder as she watched the ghost's frown deepen at her husband's antics.

"YOU! You are not possible. Ghosts do not exist!" Sherlock turned in agitation to the ghost, before turning back to the doorway and Molly and facing the girl once more. "You're not possible." He murmured and it was only as the ghost's hands were against her hips that he registered he should stop talking.

"Sherlock. Shut up." Molly's elbow made painful contact with his ribs.

"Oh you're Sherlock." The ghost hummed appraising the pair in front of her. "You know who you're named after?" She raised an eyebrow and Sherlock's brain was still not registering that this thing was sentient and real and the room was cold and god it was so clichéd. But real. Moll's shiver beside him made him wrap his arm around her protectively.

"A great uncle." He muttered through clenched teeth.

"Indeed, my brother. Bloody man was insufferable." She swept away again. "But it wasn't him that killed me. I didn't even die here." She shrugged and Sherlock felt Molly move beside him.

"Who are you?" Molly whispered from beside her husband.

"You know I've never seen a Holmes man with a woman at his side." The ghost sat at the forlorn table beside her. It didn't creak beneath her weight. "Oh Isabelle Holmes. I ran away on the eve of my wedding and well the family disowned me."

"How are you here Isabelle?" Sherlock's stunned by Molly's acceptance of a ghost and then he sees her expression. It's one of pity and when Molly sympathises for something she usually tries to adopt it. That's why they had four cats and she was forbidden from visiting any more shelters.

"Father wanted to give me to some new bit landowner who wanted a third wife." She glared out of the window. "Sherlock, my Sherlock strongly disliked the match, the last wives had died in suspicious circumstances but father was an unfeeling man. Mother's death had pretty much shredded his emotions and both my brothers and I suffered as a result." Isabelle's explanation was pulling at Molly's heartstrings and she had long left Sherlock's embrace to hear the girl's plight.

"What next?" Sherlock's voice came from the doorway to the attic.

"My Sherlock tried to stop the match, tried to help me escape to our Aunt but Father discovered I'd gone and ran me down between here and the house." Isabelle's voice had taken on the tone Sherlock used for cases, cold and analytical. The emotion had long since vanished and Molly wanted to hug her. "I realised Father buried me at the back of the gatekeepers house. He was trying to pin my death on the lovely family that worked for us. It was Edward, their son that was going to help me escape. He fled before Father got to him." She sniffed and Molly stepped even closer.

"Oh little one." Molly cooed and Sherlock had to hide a laugh. "Are you still…." Molly's face flamed red.

"Buried out there, yeah somewhere out there." Isabelle was crying now and even Sherlock watched with some shred of emotion.

"If we bury you, properly, will you find peace?" Sherlock stood closer to the _ghost_ claiming to be his lost Great aunt Isabelle.

"Who knows?" Isabelle turned to look at them. "Wait you're willing to do that?!" She stood up smiling and went to fling herself at Sherlock but stopped as she passed through him. "I want to see my Sherlock again, and my John Holmes. I miss him. I might even see Edward again!" She grinned and Sherlock's heart gave a funny leap at the sheer joy on the ghost's face.

"How are you going to explain that to your brother?" Molly raised an eyebrow towards Sherlock. "I want to dig the back of the gatekeeper's cottage up because 'a ghost told me to' is not going to work on Mycroft." Molly hummed and Isabelle's face screwed up.

"I don't like Mycroft, he wears weird pyjamas to bed and has a stash of doughnuts in his bedside drawer." Isabelle shrugged and was surprised when Sherlock burst out into a laugh.

"With that he'll do what I want." Sherlock grinned before sobering slightly. "I promise Isabelle if we can put you to rest we will." Sherlock nodded at the waif before him.

_S.H_/_M.H_

Sure enough when the small digger began to pull at the back of the cottage a skeleton was discovered. Molly could see the crushed marks on the ribs despite being an anthropologist; Isabelle Holmes really had been mown down by her own father on horseback. It would have been the blunt force trauma to the back of the skull that would have killed her.

Sherlock and Molly went back to the cottage that night to find Isabelle pacing the grass outside.

"It's weird I don't like it." She hissed, seeming angrier than normal.

"You've disturbed her grave Sherlock." Molly whispered as the trees began to rattle at them and the pair fled the ghost's vengeance.

Very quickly Sherlock rushed through Isabelle's funeral, people reporting weird noises from the woods and strange lights that even Mycroft was forced to investigate. Soon though she was buried in the consecrated ground of the Holmes family graveyard and when Molly took Sherlock back that night everything was peaceful. It was just as they were leaving that Molly shut off her torch and stared at the house, lit by the full moon that she saw Isabelle stood at the front door.

"Thank you!" She waved joyfully before running into the darkness behind the trees, vanishing in a wisp of fog.

No-one would believe Sherlock when he said he saw a ghost. John had seen Sherlock freak out at the hell hound in Baskerville, a ghost made the army surgeon snort with suppressed laughter. Mycroft just sneered until Sherlock dropped the doughnut comment once more and chuckled when his older brother turned a delightful shade of purple. Sherlock knew he brother refused to believe anything paranormal despite his own jaunt into the forest when Isabelle was 'restless'.

A year later when Molly gave birth to her beautiful daughter the pair silently decided Isabelle Holmes deserved a happier second chance.


End file.
